Sidebilder
PDF
ePub

the gods, informs us, that by Jupiter was meant the vegetable soul of the world, which restrained and prevented those uncertain alterations which Saturn, or Time, used formerly to cause in the mundane system.

not excepted. The poetry of them is often extremely noble; and the mysterious air which prevails in them, together with its delightful impression upon the mind, cannot be better expressed than in that remarkable description with which they inspired the German editor Eschenbach, when Ver. 30. Then social reign'd.] Our mythology he accidentally met with them at Leipsic : "The- here supposeth, that before establishment of the saurum me reperisse credidi," says he, "et pro- vital, vegetative, plastic nature, (represented by fecto thesaurum reperi. Incredibile dictu quo me Jupiter) the four elements were in a variable sacro horrore afflaverint indigitamenta ista deorum: and unsettled condition; but afterwards, well-disnam et tempus ad illorum lectionem eligere cogebar, posed and at peace among themselves. Tethys quod vel solum horrorem incutere animo potest, was the wife of the Ocean; Ops, or Rhea, the nocturnum; cum enim totam diem cousumserim Earth; Vesta, the eldest daughter of Saturn, Fire; in contemplando urbis splendore, et in adeundis, and the cloud-compeller, or Zeus veprysping, the quibus scatet urbs illa, viris doctis; sola nox res- Air: though he also represented the plastic printabat, quam Orpheo consecrare potui. In abys-ciple of Nature, as may be seen in the Orphic sum quendam mysteriorum venerandæ antiquitatis descendere videbar, quotiescunque silente mundo, solis vigilantibus astris et luna ampú istos hymnos ad manus sumsi."

Ver. 25. Chaos.] The unformed, undigested mass of Moses and Plato: which Milton calls

"The womb of Nature."

hymn inscribed to him.
Ver. 34.

the sedgy-crowned race.] The rivergods; who, acccording to Hesiod's Theogony, were the sons of Oceanus and Tethys. Ver. 36............. from them,

Are ye, O Naiads.] The descent of the Naiads is less certain than most points of the Greek mythology. Homer, Odyss. xiii. xugat Aiós. Virgil, in the eighth book of the Eneid, speaks as if the Nymphs, or Naiads, were the parents of the rivers: but in this he contradicts the testimony of Hesiod, and evidently departs from the orthodox system, which representeth several nymphs as retaining to every single river. On the other hand, Calimachus, who was very learned in all the school-divinity of those times, in his hymn to Delos, maketh Penus, the great Thessalian river-god, the father of his Nymphs: and Ovid, in the fourteenth book of his Metamorphosis, mentions the Naiads of Latium as the immediate daughters of the neighbouring rivergods. Accordingly, the Naiads of particular rivers are occasionally, both by Ovid and Statius, called by a patronymic, from the name of the river to which they belong. Ver. 40. Syrian Daphne.] The grove of Daphne in Syria, near Antioch, was famous for its delightful fountains.

Ib. Love, the sire of Fate.] Fate is the universal system of natural causes; the work of the Omnipotent Mind, or of Love; so Minucius Felix: "Quid aliud est fatum, quam quod de unoquoque nostrum deus fatus est." So also Cicero, in the first book on Divination: "Fatum autem id appello, quod Græci EIPMAPMENHN; id est, ordinem seriemque causarum, cum causa causæ nexa rem ex se gignat -ex quo intelligitur, ut fatum sit non id quod superstitiose, sed id quod physice dicitur causa æterna rerum." To the same purpose is the doctrine of Hierocles, in that excellent fragment concerning Providence and Destiny. As to the three Fates, or Destinies of the poets, they represented that part of the general system of natural causes which relates to man, and to other mortal beings: for so we are told in the hymn addressed to them among the Orphic Indigitamenta, where they are called the daughters of Night, (or Love) and, contrary to the vulgar notion, are distinguished by the epithets of gentle, and tender-hearted. According to Hesiod, Theog. ver. 904, they were the daughters of Jupiter and Themis; but in the Orphic Hymn to Venus, or Love, that goddess is directly styled the mother of Necessity, and is represented, immediately after, as governing the three Destinies, and conducting the whole system of natural causes. Ver. 26. Born of Fate was Time.] Cronos, Saturn, or Time, was, according to Apollodorus, the son of Coelum and Tellus. But the author of the hymns Ver. 49. Your sallying streams.] The state of the gives it quite undisguised by mythological lan-atmosphere with respect to rest and motion is, in guage, and calls him plainly the offspring of the Earth and the starry Heaven; that is, of Fate, as explained in the preceding note.

Ver. 27. Who many sons .........

Ib.

tribes

Belov'd by Pæon.] Mineral and medicinal springs. Pæon was the physician of the gods. Ver. 43. the winged offspring.] The Winds; who, according to Hesiod and Apollodorus, were the sons of Astræus and Aurora.

[ocr errors]

Ver. 46. Hyperion.] A son of Cœlum and Tellus, and father of the Sun, who is thence called, by Pindar, Hyperionides. But Hyperion is put by Homer in the same manner as here, for the Sun himself.

several ways, affected by rivers and running streams; and that more especially in hot seasons: first, they destroy its equilibrium, by cooling those parts of it with which they are in contact; and secondly, they communicate their own motion: and the air which is thus moved by them, being

Devour'd.] The known fable of Saturn devouring his children was certainly meant to imply the dissolution of natural bodies; which are pro-left heated, is of consequence more elastic than duced and destroyed by Time.

the child

Ver. 28. Of Rhea.] Jupiter, so called by Pindar. Ver. 29. drove him from the upper sky.] That Jupiter dethroned his father Saturn, is recorded by all the mythologists. Phurnutus, or Cornutus, the author of a little Greek treatise on the nature of

other parts of the atmosphere, and therefore fitter to preserve and to propagate that motion.

Ver. 70. Delian king.] One of the epithets of Apollo, or the Sun, in the Orphic hymn inscribed to him.

Ver. 79. Chloris.] The ancient Greek name for

Flora.

Ver. 83. Amalthea.] The mother of the first Bacchus, whose birth and education was written, as Diodorus Siculus informs us, in the old Pelasgic character, by Thymates, grandson to Laomedon, and contemporary with Orpheus. Thymates had travelled over Libya to the country which borders on the western ocean; there he saw the island of Nysa, and learned froin the inhabitants, that " Ammon, king of Libya, was married in former ages to Rhea, sister of Saturn and the Titans: that he afterwards fell in love with a beautiful virgin, whose name was Amalthea; had by her a son, and gave her possession of a neighbouring tract of land, wonderfully fertile; which in shape nearly resembling the horn of an ox, was thence called the Hesperian horn, and afterwards the horn of Amalthea: that, fearing the jealousy of Rhea, he concealed the young Bacchus, with his mother, in the island of Nysa;" the beauty of which, Diodorus describes with great dignity and pomp of style. This fable is one of the noblest in all the ancient mythology, and seems to have made a particular impression on the imagination of Milton; the only modern poet (unless perhaps it be necessary to except Spenser) who, in these mysterious traditions of the poetic story, had a heart to feel, and words to express, the simple and solitary genius of antiquity. To raise the idea of his Paradise, he prefers it

even to

that Nysean isle

Girt by the river Triton, where old Cham,
(Whom Gentiles Ammon call, and Libyan Jove)
Hid Amalthea, and her florid son,
Young Bacchus, from his stepdame Rhea's eye.

tocles, describes the sea-fights of Artemisium and Salamis.

Ver. 204. Thyrsus.] A staff, or spear, wreathed round with ivy: of constant use in the bacchanalian mysteries. Ver. 227. Io Pran.] An exclamation of victory and triumph, derived from Apollo's encounter with Python.

[ocr errors]

Ver. 252. Cirrha.] One of the summits of Parnassus, and sacred to Apollo. Near it were several fountains, said to be frequented by the Muses. Nysa, the other eminence of the same mountain, was dedicated to Bacchus. Ver. 263. charm the mind of gods.] This whole passage, concerning the effects of sacred music among the gods, is taken from Pindar's first Pythian ode. Ver. 297. Phrygian pipe's.] The Phrygian music was fantastic and turbulent, and fit to excite disorderly passions. Ver. 302.

The gates where Pallas holds

The guardian key. ] It was the office of Minerva to be the guardian of walled cities; whence she was named ПOÀIAΣ and ПOAIOYXOZ, and had her statues placed in their gates, being supposed to keep the keys; and on that account styled KAHAOYXOE. Ver. 310. fate

Of sober Fentheus.] Pentheus was torn in pieces by the bacchanalian priests and women, for despising their mysteries.

Ver. 318. ............. the cave

Corycian.] Of this cave Pausanias, in his tenth book, gives the following description: "between Delphi and the eminences of Parnassus, in a road to the grotto of Corycium, which has its name from the nymph Corycia, and is by far the most remarkable which I have seen. One may walk a great way into it without a torch. It is of a con

Ver. 94. Edonian band.] The priestesses and other ministers of Bacchus; so called from Edonus, a mountain of Thrace, where his rights were cele-siderable height, and hath several springs within it; brated.

Ver. 105. When Hermes.] Hermes, or Mercury, was the patron of commerce; in which benevolent character he is addressed by the author of the Indigitamenta, in these beautiful lines:

Ἐρμήνευ πάλων, κερδέμπορε, λυσιμέριμνε,
Ὃς χειρέσθεν ἔχεις εἰρήνης ὅπλον ἀμέμφες.

Ver. 121. Dispense the mineral treasure.] The merchants of Sidon and Tyre made frequent voyages to the coast of Cornwall, from whence they carried home great quantities of tin.

Ver. 136. Hath he not won.] Mercury, the patron of commerce, being so greatly dependent on the good offices of the Naiads, in return obtains for them the friendship of Minerva, the goddess of war; for military power, at least the naval part of it, hath constantly followed the establishment of trade; which exemplifies the preceding observation, that "from bounty issueth power." Ver. 143.

and yet a much greater quantity of water distills from the shell and roof, so as to be continually dropping on the ground. The people round Parnassus hold it sacred to the Corycian nymphs and to Pan."

Ver. 319. Delphic mount.] Delphi, the seat and oracle of Apollo, had a mountainous and rocky situation, on the skirts of Parnassus.

Ver. 327. Cyrenaic.] Cyrene was the native country of Callimachus, whose hymns are the most remarkable example of that mythological passion which is assumed in the preceding poem, and have always afforded particular pleasure to the author of it, by reason of the mysterious solemnity with which they affect the mind. On this account he was induced to attempt somewhat in the same manner; solely by way of exercise: the manner itself being now almost entirely abandoned in poetry. And as the mere genealogy, or the personal adventures of heathen gods, could have been but little interesting to a modern reader; it was therefore thought proper to select some convenient part of the history of Nature, and to employ these ancient bay of Biscay. divinities as it is probable they were first employed; Ver. 150. Egina's gloomy surge.] Near this to wit, in personifying natural causes, and in repreisland, the Athenians obtained the victory of Sala-senting the mutual agreement or opposition of the mis, over the Persian navy.

Ver. 160.

Calpe

[ocr errors]

Cantabrian surge.] Gibraltar and the

Xerxes saw.] This circumstance is recorded in that passage, perhaps the most splendid among all the remains of ancient history, where Plutarch, in his Life of Themis

corporeal and moral powers of the world: which hath been accounted the very highest office of poetry.

INSCRIPTIONS.

I.

FOR A GROTTO.

To me, whom in their lays the shepherds call
Actæa, daughter of the neighbouring stream,
This cave belongs. The fig-tree and the vine,
Which o'er the rocky entrance downward shoot,
Where plac'd by Glycon. He with cowslips pale,
Primrose, and purple lychnis, deck'd the green
Before my threshold, and my shelving walls
With honeysuckle covered. Here at noon,
Lull'd by the murmur of my rising fount,
I'slumber: here my clustering fruits I tend:
Or from my humid flowers, at break of day,
Fresh garlands weave, and chase from all my bounds
Each thing impure or noxious. Enter in,
O stranger! undismay'd. Nor bat, nor toad
Here lurks: and if thy breast of blameless thoughts
Approve thee, not unwelcome shalt thou tread
My quiet mansion: chiefly, if thy naine
Wise Pallas and the immortal Muses own.

II. For A

STATUE OF CHAUCER AT WOODSTOCK. SUCH was old Chaucer. Such the placid mien Of him who first with harmony inform'd The language of our fathers. Here he dwelt For many a cheerful day. These ancient walls Have often heard him, while his legends blithe He sang, of love, or knighthood, or the wiles Of homely life: through each estate and age, The fashions and the follies of the world With cunning hand portraying. Though perchance From Blenheim's towers, O stranger, thou art come Glowing with Churchill's trophies; yet in vain Dost thou applaud them if thy breast be cold To him, this other hero; who, in times Dark and untaught, began with charming verse To tame the rudeness of his native land.

With tears, with sharp remorse, and pining care,
Avenge her falsehood. Nor could all the gold,
And nuptial pomp, which lur'd her plighted faith
Fron Edmund to a loftier husband's home,
Relieve her breaking heart, or turn aside
The strokes of Death. Go, traveller; relate
The mournful story. Haply some fair maid
May hold it in remembrance, and be taught
That riches cannot pay for truth or love.

IV.

O YOUTHS and virgins: O declining eld:
O pale Misfortune's slaves: O ye who dwell
Unknown with humble Quiet; ye who wait
In courts, or fill the golden seat of kings:
O sons of Sport and Pleasure; O thou wretch
That weep'st for jealous love, or the sore wounds
Of conscious Guilt, or Death's rapacious hand
Which left thee void of hope: O ye who roam
Seek bright renown; or who for nobler paims
In exile; ye who through the embattled field
Contend, the leaders of a public cause;
Approach: behold this marble. Know ye not
The features? Hath not oft his faithful tongue
Told you the fashion of your own estate,

The secrets of your bosom? Here then, round
His monument with reverence while ye stand,
Say to each other: "This was Shakspeare's form:
Who walk'd in every path of human life.
Felt every passion; and to all mankind
Doth now, will ever, that experience yield
Which his own genius only could acquire."

V.

GULIELMVS DI, FORTIS, PIVS, LIBERATOR, CVM INEVNTE

AETATE PATRIE LABENTI ADFVISSET SALVS IPSE VNICA:

CVM MOX ITIDEM REIPVBLICA BRITANNICE VINDEX RE

NUNCIATVS ESSET ATQVE STATOR; TVM DENIQVE AD ID SE NATVM RECOGNOVIT ET REGEM FACTVM, VT CVRARET NE DOMINO IMPOTENTI CEDERENT PAX, FIDES, FORTVNA, GENERIS HVMANI. AVCTORI PVBLICA FELICITATIS P. G. A. M. A.

III.

WHOE'ER thou art whose path, in summer, lies
Through yonder village, turn thee where the grove
Of branching oaks a rural palace old
Embosoms. There dwells Albert, generous lord
Of all the harvest round. And onward thence
A low plain chapel fronts the morning light
Fast by a silent rivulet. Humbly walk,
O stranger, o'er the consecrated ground;
And on that verdant hillock, which thou seest
Beset with osiers, let thy pious hand
Sprinkle fresh water from the brook, and strew
Sweet-smelling flowers. For there doth Edmund rest,
The learned shepherd; for each rural art
Fam'd, and for songs harmonious, and the woes
Of ill-requited love. The faithless pride
Of fair Matilda sank him to the grave

In manhood's prime. But soon did righteous Heaven

VI.

FOR A COLUMN AT RUNNYMEDE.

THOU, who the verdant plain dost traverse here
While Thames among his willows from thy view
Retires; O stranger, stay thee, and the scene
Around contemplate well. This is the place
Where England's ancient barons, clad in arms
And stern with conquest, from their tyrant king
(Then rendered tame) did challenge and secure
The charter of thy freedom. Pass not on
Till thou hast blest their memory, and paid
Those thanks which God appointed the reward
Of public virtue. And if chance thy home
Salute thee with a father's honour'd name,
Go, call thy sons: instruct them what a debt
They owe their ancestors; and make them swear
To pay it, by transmitting down entire
Those sacred rights to which themselves were born.

VII.

THE WOOD-NYMPH.

APPROACH in silence. 'Tis no vulgar tale
Which I, the Driad of this hoary oak,
Pronounce to mortal ears. The second age
Now hasteneth to its period, since I rose

On this fair lawn. The groves of yonder vale
Are all my offspring: and each Nymph, who guards
The copses and the furrow'd fields beyond,
Obeys me. Many changes have I seen
In human things, and many awful deeds
Of Justice, when the ruling hand of Jove
Against the tyrants of the land, against
The unhallow'd sons of Luxury and Guile,
Was arm'd for retribution. Thus at length
Expert in laws divine, I know the paths
Of Wisdom, and erroneous Folly's end
Have oft presag'd: and now well-pleas'd I wait
Each evening till a noble youth, who loves
My shade, a while releas'd from public cares,
Yon peaceful gate shall enter, and sit down
Beneath my branches. Then his musing mind
I prompt, unseen; and place before his view
Sincerest forms of good; and move his heart
With the dread bounties of the Sire Supreme
Of gods and men, with Freedom's generous deeds,
The lofty voice of Glory, and the faith
Of sacred Friendship. Stranger, I have told
My function. If within thy bosom dwell
Aught which may challenge praise, thou wilt not
Unhonour'd my abode, nor shall I hear
A sparing benediction from thy tongue.

VIII.

[leave

Ye powers unseen, to whom the bards of Greece
Erected altars; ye who to the mind
More lofty views unfold, and prompt the heart
With more divine emotions; if erewhile
Not quite unpleasing have my votive rites
Of you been deem'd, when oft this lonely seat
To you I consecrated; then vouchsafe
Here with your instant energy to crown
My happy solitude. It is the hour
When most I love to invoke you, and have felt
Most frequent your glad ministry divine.
The air is calm: the Sun's unveiled orb
Shines in the middle Heaven. The harvest round
Stands quiet, and among the golden sheaves
The reapers lie reclin'd. The neighbouring groves
Are mute; nor even a linnet's random strain
Echoeth amid the silence. Let me feel
Your influence, ye kind powers. Aloft in Heaven
Abide ye? or on those transparent clouds
Pass ye from hill to hill? or on the shades
Which yonder elms cast o'er the lake below
Do you converse retir'd? From what lov'd haunt
Shall I expect you? Let me once more feel
Your influence, O ye kind inspiring powers!
And I will guard it well, nor shall a thought
Rise in my mind, nor shall a passion move
Across my bosom unobserv'd, unstor'd
By faithful memory. And then at some
More active moment will I call them forth
Anew; and join them in majestic forms,
And give them utterance in harmonious strains;
That mankind shall wonder at your sway.

IX.

ME though in life's sequester'd vale The Almighty Sire ordain'd to dwell, Remote from Glory's toilsome ways, And the great scenes of public praise; Yet let me still with grateful pride Remember how my infant frame He temper'd with prophetic flame, And early music to my tongue supply'd.

"Twas then my future fate he weigh'd: And, "This be thy concern," he said, "At once with Passion's keen alarms, And Beauty's pleasurable charms, And sacred Truth's eternal light, To move the various mind of man; Till under one unblemish'd plan, His reason, fancy, and his heart unite."

AN EPISTLE TO CURIO 1. THRICE has the Spring beheld thy faded fame, And the fourth Winter rises on thy shame, Since I exulting grasp'd the votive shell, In sounds of triumph all thy praise to tell; Blest could my skill through ages make thee shine, And proud to mix my memory with thine. But now the cause that wak'd my song before, With praise, with triumph, crowns the toil no more. If to the glorious man, whose faithful cares, Nor quell'd by malice, nor relax'd by years, Had aw'd Ambition's wild audacious hate, And dragg'd at length Corruption to her fate; If every tongue its large applauses ow'd, And well-earn'd laurels every Muse bestow'd; If public Justice urg'd the high reward, And Freedom smil'd on the devoted bard: Say then, to him whose levity or lust Laid all a people's generous hopes in dust; Who taught Ambition firmer heights of power, And sav'd Corruption at her hopeless hour; Does not each tongue its execrations owe? Shall not each Muse a wreath of shame bestow? And public Justice sanctify the award? And Freedom's hand protect th' impartial bard?

Curio was a young Roman senator of distinguished birth and parts, who, upon his first entrance into the forum, had been committed to the care of Cicero. Being profuse and extravagant, he soon dissipated a large and splendid fortune; to supply the want of which, he was driven to the necessity of abetting the designs of Cæsar against the liberties of his country, although he had before been a professed enemy to him.-Cicero exerted himself with great energy to prevent his ruin, but without effect, and he became one of the first victims in the civil war. This epistle was first published in the year 1744, when a celebrated patriot, after a long and at last a successful opposition to an unpopular minister, had deserted the cause of his country, and become the foremost in support and defence of the same measures he had so steadily and for such a length of time contended against. It was altered by the author into the Ode to Curio; but the original poem is too curious to be omitted. N.

Yet long reluctant I forbore thy name,
Long watch'd thy virtue like a dying flame,
Hung o'er each glimmering spark with anxious eyes,
And wish'd and hop'd the light again would rise.
But since thy guilt still more entire appears,
Since no art hides, no supposition clears;
Since vengeful Slander now too sinks her blast,
And the first rage of party-hate is past;
Calm as the Judge of Truth, at length I come
To weigh thy merits, and pronounce thy doom:
So may my trust from all reproach be free,
And Earth and Time confirm the fair decree.
There are who say they view'd without amaze
Thy sad reverse of all thy former praise;
That through the pageants of a patriot's name,
They pierc'd the foulness of thy secret ain;
Or deem'd thy arm exalted but to throw
The public thunder on a private foe.
But I, whose soul consented to thy cause,
Who felt thy genius stamp its own applause,
Who saw the spirits of each glorious age
Move in thy bosom, and direct thy rage;
I scorn'd the ungenerous gloss of slavish minds,
The owl-ey'd race, whom Virtue's lustre blinds.
Spite of the learned in the ways of Vice,
And all who prove that each man has his price,
I still believ'd thy end was just and free;
And yet, even yet believe it-spite of thee.
Even though thy mouth impure has dar'd disclaim,
Urg'd by the wretched impotence of shame,
Whatever filial cares thy zeal had paid
To laws infirm and liberty decay'd;
Has begg'd Ambition to forgive the show;
Has told Corruption thou wert ne'er her foe;
Has boasted in thy country's awful ear,
Her gross delusion when she held thee dear;
How taine she follow'd thy tempestuous call,
And heard thy pompous tales, and trusted all—
Rise from your sad abodes, ye curst of old
For laws subverted, and for cities sold!
Paint all the noblest trophies of your guilt,
The oaths you perjur'd, and the blood you spilt;
Yet must you one untempted vileness own,
One dreadful palm reserv'd for him alone:
With studied arts his country's praise to spurn,
To beg the infamy he did not earn,

To challenge hate when honour was his due,
And plead his crimes where all his virtue knew.
Do robes of state the guarded heart enclose
From each fair feeling human nature knows?
Can pompous titles stun the enchanted ear
To all that reason, all that sense, would hear?
Else could'st thou e'er desert thy sacred post,
In such unthankful baseness to be lost?
Else could'st thou wed the emptiness of vice,
And yield thy glories at an idiot's price?

When they who, loud for liberty and laws,
In doubtful times had fought their country's cause,
When now of conquest and dominion sure,
They sought alone to hold their fruits secure ;
When taught by these, Oppression hid the face
To leave Corruption stronger in her place,
By silent spells to work the public fate,
And taint the vitals of the passive state,
Till healing Wisdom should avail no more,
And Freedom loath to tread the poison'd shore;
Then, like some guardian god that flies to save
The weary pilgrim from an instant grave,
Whom, sleeping and secure, the guileful snake
Steals near and nearer through the peaceful brake;

Then Curio rose to ward the public woe,
To wake the heedless, and incite the slow,
Against Corruption, Liberty to arm,
And quell the enchantress by a mightier charm.
Swift o'er the land the fair contagion flew,
And with the country's hopes thy honours grew.
Thee, patriot, the patrician roof confess'd :
Thy powerful voice the rescued merchant bless'd;
Of thee with awe the rural hearth resounds;
The bowl to thee the grateful sailor crowns;
Touch'd in the sighing shade with manlier fires,
To trace thy steps the love-sick youth aspires;
The learn'd recluse, who oft amaz'd had read
Of Grecian heroes, Roman patriots dead,
With new amazement hears a living name
Pretend to share in such forgotten fame;
And he who, scorning courts and courtly ways,
Left the tame track of these dejected days,
The life of nobler ages to renew

In virtues sacred from a monarch's view,
Rouz'd by thy labours from the blest retreat,
Where social ease and public passions meet,
Again ascending treads the civil scene,
To act and be a man, as thou hadst been.

Thus by degrees thy cause superior grew,
And the great end appear'd at last in view:
We heard the people in thy hopes rejoice;
We saw the senate bending to thy voice;
The friends of Freedom hail'd the approaching reign
Of laws, for which our fathers bled in vain;
While venal Faction, struck with new dismay,
Shrunk at their frown, and self-abandon'd lay.
Wak'd in the shock, the public Genius rose,
Abash'd and keener from his long repose;
Sublime in ancient pride, he rais'd the spear
Which slaves and tyrants long were wont to fear:
The city felt his call: from man to man,
From street to street, the glorious horrour ran;
Each crowded haunt was stirr'd beneath his power,
And, murmuring, challeng'd the deciding hour.
Lo! the deciding hour at last appears;
The hour of every freeman's hopes and fears!
Thou, Genius! guardian of the Roman name,
O ever prompt tyrannic rage to tame!
Instruct the mighty moments as they roll,
And guide each movement steady to the goal.
Ye Spirits, by whose providential art
Succeeding motives turn the changeful heart,
Keep, keep the best in view to Curio's mind,
And watch his fancy, and his passions bind!
Ye Shades immortal, who, by Freedom led,
Or in the field, or on the scaffold bled,
Bend from your radiant seats a joyful eye,
And view the crown of all your labours nigh.
See Freedom mounting her eternal throne!
The sword submitted, and the laws her own:
See public Power, chastis'd, beneath her stands,
With eyes intent, and uncorrupted hands!
See private life by wisest arts reclaim'd!
See ardent youth to noblest manners fram'd!
See us acquire whate'er was sought by you,
If Curio, only Curio, will be true.

'Twas then-O shame! O trust how ill repaid! O Latium, oft by faithless sons betray'd!'Twas then-what frenzy on thy reason stole? What spells unsinew'd thy determin'd soul? -Is this the man in Freedom's cause approv'd? The man so great, so honour'd, so belov'd? This patient slave by tinsel chains allur'd? This wretched suitor for a boon abjur'd?

« ForrigeFortsett »